


Cologne, Cigarettes, and Bourbon

by orphan_account



Category: David Bowie (Musician)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M, One Shot, Professor Jones - Freeform, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 17:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20549759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Evie never mooned over Professor Jones despite being his TA. And the feeling seemed mutual, until a chance encounter one evening.





	Cologne, Cigarettes, and Bourbon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for some Professor Jones challenge on Tumblr. To be included: a photograph and the line, “Relax, we won’t get caught.”
> 
> Now orphaned.

Evie didn’t like Professor Jones.

From the first time he had stepped up to the lectern in his overcrowded class, she knew he was bad news in tweed. No one could be that pretty and not know it. No one. Beauty was a class distinction—much like money and fame. Beautiful people were spoiled by others who would do anything to make them happy. They were narcissists who ruthlessly wielded good-looks and charisma like weapons.

Why should Professor Jones be any different?

She had watched him with narrowed eyes during the lectures, not trusting his no-nonsense demeanor in the classroom. It was surely a mask that hid darker intentions meted out during his one-on-one conferences. There was never a shortage of students vying for his attention.

Evie was never going to be one of them, though. Her mistrust never dissipated as the term went on, despite his absolute professionalism. Nor did it lessen when he offered her the position of his TA the following year. She had been his best student, he told her. Evie took the job—grudgingly.

“Holy hell. Is that who I think it is?” Amy whispered.

Evie was sharing drinks with her two best friends in a swanky bar—the kind that was blessedly devoid of handsy frat boys. The three had been glad to leave the undergrad scene behind last year. They were true academics now, pursuing masters in their chosen fields. Hair-flipping, low-cut blouses, and giggling at stupid jokes were a thing of the past.

Evie followed her friend’s gaze and found Professor Jones sitting at a table on the other side of the bar. He was chatting with colleagues; she recognized the head of the liberal arts department and her thesis adviser.

“Outside of his natural habitat,” Leslie replied. “A rare sighting, indeed.”

Evie heard the distinctive electronic sound of a cell phone camera going off. She turned and Leslie was holding her phone up.

“What?” she asked, a mischievous grin stretching her ruby lips. “He’s hot.”

Evie rolled her eyes.

“Seriously,” Amy agreed. “When I had his class a couple of years ago, I totally fantasized about hitting that.” She took a sip of her apple martini. “I mean, I even…kinda tried to.”

Leslie’s jaw dropped open and she laughed. “You so did not!” Her voice was a little too loud in the relatively quiet bar.

“I totally did.” Amy glanced at the professor, who was smiling and nodding at his companions, completely unaware that several feet away his former students were sharing inappropriate fantasies about him. “I made him brownies and brought them to him during his office hours. I tried to be all coy but failed miserably.”

“What did he do?” Leslie asked, leaning on an elbow.

Amy sighed. “Nothing. He thanked me for the gift and asked me if there was anything else I needed.”

“Please tell me you said, ‘Just your body, Professor,’ and then stripped naked on the spot!” Leslie exclaimed.

“Shush!” Evie pressed her finger against her lips.

“Relax, we won’t get caught,” Leslie said, waving her arm in the direction of the professor. “He’s completely engrossed over there.”

Evie rolled her eyes again. “You two are pathetic.”

“Oh, please.” Leslie gave her a flat stare. “You’re his TA. Don’t tell me you never imagined him taking you over his desk.”

Evie glared at her to cover the blush rising in her cheeks. “Never.” It was the truth—mostly. She never fantasized about the professor during her waking hours—but her dreams, on the other hand… She blamed those on her current lack of anything resembling a love life and the fact she was working such long hours lately with the man in question.

“Then you’ve gotta be dead,” Amy replied. “Oh, shit. He’s coming over.”

Both she and Leslie hastily straightened, trying to look demure. Evie tried not to laugh. She’d worked with Professor Jones for the last few months and wasn’t about to pretend to be some silly coquettish girl—especially not for him.

“Miss Anderson. Miss Stravinsky,” he greeted Leslie and Amy, ignoring Evie. “I trust you’re having a pleasant evening?”

Amy swallowed, looking a tad star-struck, and nodded mutely.

“Yeah, it’s been nice,” Leslie answered with a smile. She had always been the most brazen of the three. “In fact, we were just talking about you.”

Professor Jones raised a brow. “Oh? And why should some stuffy old professor be the topic of conversation.”

“We were just wondering what kind of position you like…your desk to be in—in your office.” Leslie’s grin turned positively diabolical. Evie wanted to throw her glass at her. Amy giggled behind her hand.

His eyes narrowed shrewdly. “I should think you have better things to discuss than the position of my…desk.” He glanced at Evie with that last word, and goosebumps rose over her arms. She hated that she wasn’t completely unaffected by him—no matter how she pretended otherwise.

“I agree.” She tried to return his piercing gaze with one of her own. It took no small amount of effort.

He smiled an unsettling little smile. “As much as I enjoy reconnecting with former students—” his eyes turned back to Leslie and Amy, “—I came over here with the singular purpose of borrowing your companion. We have matters to discuss related to Julian Priest’s upcoming guest lecture.” He held out a hand to Evie. “Shall we?”

Evie wanted to groan, but she rose without complaint, gathering her things. She should have known she wouldn’t have gotten the night off. The man was ridiculously meticulous—a straight-up workaholic. “Looks like duty calls, ladies. See ya.”

Leslie waved, her grin entirely too knowing for Evie’s liking. The girl was as incorrigible as ever.

“Oh, and Miss Anderson,” Professor Jones said, “I hope I won’t find that photo floating about online.”

Leslie’s smile dipped. “You won’t, sir,” she replied, and added under her breath, “But it’s definitely going to be my wallpaper.”

The professor gave her the barest of nods, either ignoring that last comment or not hearing it, and he ushered Evie away from the table. She was surprised when he led her out of the bar into the crisp autumn night. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, walking slowly ahead without looking back, knowing she would follow.

“Those things will kill you,” she said, catching up to him as he lit up.

He took a deep drag. “So they say,” he replied, blowing a ring of smoke. “It’s a rare indulgence. Everyone has their vices, Evelyn.” His icy blue eyes met hers and she shivered. It was the first time he’d ever called her by her first name.

“So, Julian Priest?” she asked, fidgeting. She’d never actually dealt with the professor outside of the school. It felt too intimate. Or was that just the buzz of the alcohol? She’d only had half a drink.

“Hm. He’d like to do a demonstration.” Professor Jones pulled a folded sheet of paper from a pocket inside his jacket and handed it to her. “You’ll need to acquire these items.”

Evie unfolded it and looked over the list, mildly disturbed. “A pig cadaver?” She scrunched her nose in disgust.

“The artist’s tastes do lean toward the macabre.” A brief disquieting smile crossed his lips, though it disappeared as he looked at Evie. “Be wary of him. He’s looking for a new assistant and he can be rather…_charming_…when it suits him.”

“Afraid he’s going to steal me away?” Evie snorted.

“Quite frankly, yes.” The professor frowned, taking another pull on his cigarette. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry,” she said. “I’m smarter than your average TA.”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Indeed.” She thought he added, “Among other things,” but his voice was so quiet she couldn’t be sure. They walked on in silence, and Evie was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Unbidden, one of her more salacious dreams about the professor surfaced in her mind.

_She sat in his lap as he unbuttoned her blouse. With his teeth._

“Your car?”

She flushed at his voice and was grateful for the shroud of darkness. He flung the butt of his cigarette in the gutter and nodded toward her dilapidated old Volvo.

“Yep, that’s me.” She laughed nervously. Why did everything feel so different? She didn’t like him that way. She didn’t really like him at all. Her hand shook as she dug in her purse for her keys.

He followed her to the driver’s side, ostensibly acting the role of gentleman. Instead of opening her door, though, he trapped her against her car, his hands on either side of her. Her heart pounded as she looked up at him.

“I am the consummate professional,” he murmured. She wasn’t sure if his words were for her or himself. “I endeavor to avoid the very appearance of impropriety. Even when faced with so tempting a challenge as a beautiful, intelligent young woman who doesn’t have the slightest interest in me—unlike all the other frivolous girls parading through my classroom, hoping I will make one of them my latest conquest.”

Naked hunger burned in his eyes, and Evie shrank against the car even as her entire body was engulfed in a blaze of sudden desire. He leaned closer, smelling like cologne, bourbon, and cigarettes. His gaze flicked to her lips, and for a quivering breath, she thought he might kiss her. She wanted him to.

“Goodnight, Evelyn.” He stepped back. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning in my office.” He began heading back toward the bar.

She blinked several times before she registered what he’d said. “But…” she stammered, “but it’s Sunday tomorrow.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. His handsome profile glowed under the street light.

“Don’t be late.” And then he was gone.

Evie sagged, trying to catch her breath as she attempted to make sense of this unusual encounter. The professor had just revealed the darker side that lied beneath his austere exterior—and she hadn’t balked as she always assumed she would. She had wanted to surrender that instant.

Scowling, she proclaimed to the empty street, “I don’t like him!”

Even as she said it, however, she knew it was no longer true.


End file.
